By Birth a Lady

Volume One – Chapter Fourteen.

A Family Party

“Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining’s party such a figure as that!”

It was the day of the Blandfield Court invitation, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room. For, some days before, in accordance with his promise, Sir Philip had been over to the Elms, taking Laura quite by surprise when he supplemented his invitation by a request that Miss Bedford might also be of the party.

“Miss Bedford – our governess!” stammered Laura, completely taken aback.

But she was herself again the next instant, as she saw through the arrangement.

“Sir Philip has been deceived,” she thought; “but I am not so easily put off, nor yet cast off,” she muttered.

What should she do? Display open anger, or temporise until Ella Bedford could be dismissed – ignominiously dismissed – from her situation?

Laura Bray was angry, and therefore she talked to herself in strong language, and called things by unpleasant names. But she must act in some way, she thought; it would never do for her to give up all for which her ambitious nature thirsted. She had set herself upon being Lady Vining, and after a fashion she loved Charley, who, from being free and friendly, and on happy laughing terms with her, seemed daily to be growing more and more distant; for she was not deceived by his assumed sociability. She herself had acted so as to try and efface the past; but there was still the recollection of the conservatory scene, and though she tried to set it down as merely a bit of flirtation – one that she ought to pass over without notice – her heart would not accept of the flattering unction; for she knew Charley Vining to be too sterling, too generous a man to trifle with the feelings of any woman.

Then why was he trifling with her? she exclaimed vehemently. Had she no claims to his consideration? There was a dull heavy feeling came over her, as she thought of how he had never been more than friend to her, and that the warmth had been entirely on one side.

But she felt that it would not do to show her anger – kindness would perhaps work a change; and until her rival – no, she would not dignify her with that title – till this governess had gone, she would assume an appearance of sorrow, trying the while to win Charley back from his passing fancy. She could have bitten her tongue for the ill-judged hasty words she had spoken; but O, if she could but detect this Miss Bedford in some light coquettish act, some behaviour too frivolous for her position, it should go hard with her! – for at the present – probably on account of the dislike openly shown – Mrs Bray and her hopeful son seemed disposed to treat their dependent with more consideration, which was really the case on the part of the former, whose mental constitution was such that she could not conceive the possibility of any one holding a paid position to perform certain duties possessing the sensitiveness and thoughts of a lady.

Laura had determined to temporise, and also to counterplot. It struck her that Sir Philip had been deceived, and hurriedly rising, she left the room.

It was evident to her sharpened perceptibilities that it was Charley’s doing that Miss Bedford was invited; and she determined Sir Philip Vining should see who was the lady his son wished to be of the party.

Laura’s heart beat quickly, as, with assumed kindness and gentleness of mien, she returned from the schoolroom with Ella, and introduced her to Sir Philip.

“I thought that Miss Bedford would like to thank you herself, Sir Philip, for your kind invitation,” she said, by way of explanation of her sudden act; and then she watched attentively the effect produced.

She was right. Sir Philip was startled, and as he rose to cordially greet and repeat his invitation, he gazed almost wonderingly at the sweet mien and gentle face before him, raising Ella’s hand, and with all the grace of an old courtier, kissing it respectfully, moved by the true homage he felt for so much youth and beauty. But as he released her hand, there was a troubled puzzled look in the old gentleman’s face – a look that was still there when at last he took his leave to go thoughtfully homeward; for now it again struck him that Charley’s impressive demand that the governess should be asked was a little strange, though here was the key.

Sir Philip dismissed the thought that oppressed him, though. Charley was too noble to be moved by any disloyal acts; and as to stooping – pooh! it was absurd! He was growing an old woman, full of nervous fears and fancies; and casting his “whimsies,” as he called them, away, he entered with all his heart into the preparations for the little fête.

And now the day had arrived, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room, where Mr Bray and “Mr Maximilian” were already waiting. Mrs Bray had sailed and rustled into the room in a tremendously stiff green brocade dress, to be complimented by her lord as resembling a laurel hedge, and by her son for her May-day aspect and Jack-in-the-green look. But Mrs Bray was satisfied, and that was everything. Her satisfaction was evident by the way in which she swept round the room, making a vortex that caught up the light chairs and loose articles that came within its reach.

“Bai Jove, there, why don’t you mind!” exclaimed Max, as the glossy hat left upon the couch was sent spinning across the room. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Mrs Bray did not reply, but she would not have sat down in that dress, save in the carriage, upon any consideration – at all events, not until after it had been seen at Blandfield.

Max’s hat was made smooth sooner than his temper, and he was still muttering and grumbling when Nelly and her sisters came bounding in, like three tall, thin, peripatetic tulips, followed closely by Laura, glorious with black hair, flashing eyes, amber moiré, and black lace.

Mr Onesimus Bray placed his hands in his pockets and walked smilingly round his daughter, in whom he took immense pride; but the attempt that he made to kiss her was received with a shriek of horror, his daughter darting back beyond his reach, and at the same time bringing forth an oath from her brother’s lips, as she swept the glossy, newly-brushed hat from the marqueterie table whereon it had been placed for safety.

“For shame, Max!” exclaimed his mother.

“Bai Jove, then, it’s enough to make an angel swear! How would you like a fellow to tread on your bonnets?”

The ladies shuddered.

“Never mind, then – a poor old Max!” exclaimed mischievous Nelly, who had but a few minutes before been snubbed by her brother; and, stooping down, she picked up the unfortunate hat, and, before she could be arrested, carefully brushed all the nap up the wrong way, Max sitting completely astounded the while at the outrage put upon him.

What he would have said remains to this day unknown. His mouth had gasped open after the fashion of an expiring aquarium pet, and he was about to ejaculate, when he stopped short; for Ella Bedford came quietly into the room, the centre, as it were, of a soft cloud of grey barège, which gave to her pale gentle features almost an ethereal expression, but which called forth from the gorgeous amber queen the remark standing at the head of this chapter:

“Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining’s party such a figure as that!”

Ella coloured up, and then said gently: “Shall I change the dress for a plain muslin, Miss Bray?”

“O, I’m sure I don’t know!” exclaimed Laura, with a toss. “I think – ”

“I think the dress looks uncommonly nice, Miss Bedford – I do, bai Jove!” drawled Max, fixing his glass in his eye, and staring furiously.

It was the first act of kindness Max Bray had done for many a long day; but it caused a shrinking sensation in her for whom it was intended, while Laura darted at her a fierce look of hatred, and then an angry glance at her brother.

Ella looked inquiringly at Mrs Bray, as if for instructions; but that lady always sided with son Max, as did Mr Bray, as far as he dared, with his daughter.

“I almost think – ” he ventured to observe.

“Don’t talk stuff, Ness!” shrieked his lady. “What do you know about a lady’s dress? If it was a fleece or a pig – There, I think Miss Bedford’s things will do very nicely indeed; and if some people would only dress as neatly, it wouldn’t half ruin their parents in dressmakers’ bills.”

Laura did not condescend to answer, but throwing herself into a chair, she took up a book, pretending to read, but holding it upside down, till Nelly laughingly called attention to the fact.

“Pert child!” exclaimed Laura fiercely.

“Don’t care!” laughed Nelly. “So the book was upside down; and I’d rather be a pert child than a disagreeable, sour old maid!”

“You’d better send that rude tom-boy to bed – you had, bai Jove!” drawled Max.

“Ah! – and I’d rather be a rude tom-boy than a great girl, bai Jove, Mr Max!” cried Nelly; whereupon Mr Bray laughed, Mrs Bray scolded, and Nelly pretended to cry, directing a comical look the while at her father, who, whatever his weakness, was passionately fond of his girls.

The crunching of the gravel by the wheels of the wagonette put a stop to the rather unpleasant scene, when, to Laura’s surprise, Max jumped up and handed Ella down to the carriage, returning afterwards for his sister, who favoured him with a peculiarly meaning look; one which he replied to in as supercilious a manner as he could assume.

“What does it mean, Max?” she whispered, as they descended the stairs. “More affection for your little sisters?”

“My dear Laura,” drawled Max, “will you take my advice and adopt a motto?”

“Motto?” said Laura inquiringly.

“Ya-as, bai Jove! the very one for you – just suited to the occasion: Laissez-aller. Do you understand?”

Laura looked at him meaningly, but made no reply, for they had reached the carriage.

Volume One – Chapter Fifteen.

Charley’s Fête

In spite of her annoyance, Laura’s eyes sparkled when they reached the Court; for Sir Philip hurried to the carriage, welcoming the party most warmly, and, handing her out, he led her himself to the beautiful little kiosk, and then took her from place to place, according to her attentions that made more than one match-making mamma with marriageable daughters look meaningly at the same daughters, and then think of Charley Vining with a sigh.

But if Laura was in high glee, so was not Max, who had to stand by while Charley carried off Ella Bedford, Nelly laughingly fastening upon his other arm.

“A rude coarse beast, bai Jove!” muttered Max elegantly, as he tried vainly to get the little button of his glove secured. “Let him have a fall again, and see if I’ll go to his help!”

“I shall come with you if I may,” said Nelly demurely.

“To be sure!” laughed Charley, whose heart throbbed with pleasure as he felt – nay, hardly felt – the light pressure of the grey glove upon his arm. “Miss Bedford won’t mind, I hope. Do you know, Miss Bedford, I’m rather glad you are with us? I’m almost afraid Nelly means some inroad upon my purse.”

“No, I don’t,” said Nelly, “so don’t be afraid;” and then she walked very demurely by their side, Charley encouraging her to stay upon observing Ella’s constraint and troubled looks.

“She’d be off like a frightened pigeon – dove, I mean!” muttered Charley, as he looked down at the almost painful face beside him. But a little quiet conversation upon current topics seemed to set her more at ease, and, after a while, Hugh Lingon approaching, Charley Vining whispered, loudly enough, though, for Nelly to hear:

“Now I’m going, Miss Bedford, for here comes Nelly’s intended. I hope you will play the chaperone most stringently.”

Nelly rewarded him with a sharp pinch as he left them, Hugh Lingon taking his place; and Ella, whose heart beat almost painfully, asking herself the reason why.

But Charley Vining had laid his plans that day, and he felt he must proceed with caution. So hurrying himself, he acted the part of host with admirable tact, picking out the ladies who seemed neglected, forming sets for croquet, handing refreshments, or escorting little parties to the lake-like river for boating; distributing himself, as it were, throughout the grounds, and at last interrupting a tête-à-tête between Laura and Hugh Lingon, who had soon forsaken the ladies left in his charge.

Laura commenced a little minauderie, professing to be unable to leave Mr Lingon; but she gave up directly she saw Charley’s laugh, for she knew that it would be – nay, was – seen through. She knew Charley Vining to be different from most men of her acquaintance; and accepting his offer, she gladly took his arm, making the match-making mammas to whisper, as the handsome couple passed through the grounds, “There, didn’t I tell you so?” and then to gossip about how they had had their suspicions concerning the purpose of the fête.

But Laura’s pleasure was but short-lived; for though Charley was pleasant, gay, and chatty, he was nothing more, and though he carefully avoided referring to the croquet-party, she felt that he was not as she could wish.

“He’ll go back to her as soon as, with any decency, he can,” she thought; and her teeth were set, and her fingers clenched, pressing the nails almost through her gloves, as she forced back a sigh.

But she soon cheered up, for she told herself it was not for long, and determined to try if gentleness would gain the day; she listened to all her companion said, striving the while, without being obtrusive, to obliterate her past words of anger.

Laura was wrong; for it was not for a considerable time, and until he had played cavalier to many a lady – winning the thanks and smiles of Sir Philip, who was delighted at his son’s efforts – that he sought once more Ella Bedford, followed by Sir Philip’s eyes; the old gentleman gazing uneasily after him as he went up and offered his arm, which was reluctantly taken.

“I’m going now,” said Nelly, who had kept with her guard the whole time; “I want something to eat. I declare, Charley Vining, I’ve only had one thin slice of butter spread with bread-crumbs, and a cup of tea;” and before a word could be said, she had darted off.

Sir Philip’s were not the only eyes that followed Charley Vining to where sat Ella Bedford; for as Max Bray followed him at a distance, as if by accident Laura did the same, and brother and sister gave genuine starts as they encountered at the union of two alleys.

“Grows quite romantic, bai Jove!” sneered Max; but he relapsed into an uncomfortable look on seeing the penetrating gaze directed at him by his sister.

“Let me take your arm,” she said coldly; and then, as the shades of evening were fast falling, they walked slowly on together, towards a part of the grounds now apparently deserted.

Meanwhile Charley Vining had led Ella across the lawn, pressing her to partake of some refreshment, but in vain; and at last, in spite of herself, she found that she was alone with him, in a secluded part of the grounds.

“There is a seat here,” said Charley. “Shall we rest for a few minutes?”

“It would hardly be advisable,” was the quiet reply; “the evening is damp.” And then for a few moments there was a pause, as they still walked slowly on, Charley with his heart beating heavily, and Ella eager to return to the throng upon the lawn – a throng that the afternoon through she had avoided – and hardly liking to speak, lest she might betray her agitation, and that she looked upon this otherwise than as an ordinary attention of host to one of his guests.

For Ella was not blind: her woman’s instinct had whispered to her respecting the many attentions pressed upon her, and she trembled as she recalled the night when the cross was returned; for her heart told her that such things must not be – that she must be cold and cautious, guarding and steeling herself against tender emotions, for she was but the poor paid governess, and this man, whose arm she lightly touched, was almost engaged to Laura Bray.

But the silence was broken at length by Charley, who spoke deeply, as he stopped short by a standard covered with pale white roses, whose perfume seemed shed around upon the soft night air.

“Miss Bedford,” he said, “I have been in pain, almost in agony, for many days past; and till I found that I had been wronging you, it seemed to me that life was going to be unbearable.”

“Pain! – wronging me!” exclaimed Ella.

“Yes,” he said; “but hear me out. I am no polished speaker, Miss Bedford – only a simple, blunt, and I hope honest and truthful man. A week or two since I believed that you favoured the suit of Max Bray: to-night I will not insult you with questions, but tell you honestly I do not believe that to be the case; and when the conviction flashed upon me that I was wrong, I tell you frankly my heart leaped with joy. You may ask why: I will tell you.”

“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, “this must not be; you forget yourself, your position – you forget me when you talk so. Pray lead me back.”

“You speak as if my words pained you, Miss Bedford,” said Charley huskily. “Pray forgive me if they do. Nay, but a few minutes longer.”

He caught one hand in his, and as she glanced for an instant in his direction, the rising moon gleaming through the trees lit up his handsome earnest face, photographing it, as it were, upon her brain; for to her dying day she never forgot that look – that countenance so imploringly turned upon her.

“Miss Bedford – Ella,” he whispered, “I love you tenderly and devotedly! This is no light declaration: till I saw you, woman never occupied my thoughts. You see by my brusque ways, my bluntness, that I have been no dallier in drawing-rooms, no holder of lady’s silk. Till now, my loves have been in the stables, kennels, fields. Blunt language this – uncomplimentary perhaps; but I am no courtier. I speak as I feel, and I tell you that to win your love in return would be to make me a happy man.”

“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, vainly trying to release her hand, “lead me back, pray!”

“Nay,” said Charley, with sadness in his tones, “I will not force you to listen to me;” and he released her hand. “I was hopeful that you would have listened to my suit.”

“Indeed – indeed,” said Ella, “I cannot, Mr Vining: it can never be. You forget – position – me!”

She could say no more – her words seemed to stifle her; and had she continued speaking, she felt that she would have burst into tears.

“I forget nothing,” said Charley, almost sternly. “How can I forget? How can I ever forget? But surely,” he said, once more catching her hand in his – “surely you cannot with that sweet gentle face be cruel, and love to torture one who has spoken simply the truth – laid bare to you his feelings! You believe what I say?”

“Yes, yes!” almost sobbed Ella. “But indeed – indeed it can never be. Do not think me either harsh or cruel, for I mean it not.”